Apiary
by Lnzy1
Summary: Sequel to Aporia. A struggle of possession over Sam and a cloud of suspicion hanging over Bumblebee has the pair scrambling to stay together. With their allies across the galaxy at war, they fight to keep hold of their fragile 'Happily Ever After'.
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue. **_

The target was fast. Much faster then he had anticipated. A rookie mistake. He hated himself for it.

The terrain was rocky with fauna scattered about, growing up crookedly through the sandy soil. The target was only a few meter ahead. His lead would not hold. Ahead was a rock outcropping that he knew lead down into a valley. He knew what was reportedly hidden in that valley and it was simple data verification that the enemy was heading straight for it. Perfect.

As he had hoped, the target ran straight for the rocks and leaped over. Though visual contact was lost for a split moment, he could hear the sound of the target loose his footing and fall. He could not have asked for a more perfect turn of events.

He had him.

Launching himself over the rock outcropping, Riptide sailed through the air and pulled out his blaster. Directly below was his target, struggling to regain lost footing. He locked onto his target and pulled the trigger. Both Cybertronians hit the dirt at the same moment, but only one remained standing.

The parched ground was already soaking in the oozing Energon and lubricant. It was a clean shot, straight through the sub-transistor just below the neck line. His processor had shut down immediately. He was not dead, but stasis lock would not keep his spark from fading away. He had mere minutes. Quickly, Riptide placed a hard line into the dying mech's processor uplink.

A firewall immediately rose up and blocked his access. But the processor was fading and safety programs reared up and began rooting all power to the main power core in an attempt to keep him alive just moment longer. The firewalls fell without a struggle and the mech's mind was open for Riptide to flip through as he pleased.

Highly trained as he was, Riptide went straight for the dying mech's security codes and transferred the data. Then he sifted through everything in a rough sweep. There wasn't much time to go through with a fine optic, but he grabbed and transferred anything that appeared to be of value.

There was not much.

This Mech was not high on the chain of command. Not a lieutenant like himself, but merely a foot soldier.

As the last pitiful pulses of energy ran across his processor, Riptide pulled away and allowed the mech to slip seamlessly into the darkness of death. He watched the light drain from his optics and all functions cease.

"Till all are one." Riptide muttered before turning back the way he had come. Air whipped up around him as the wind blew across the valley floor and kicked up dust.

He paused.

A strange feeling, deep within his chest…pinged. It was not pain. It did not feel like a physical sensation so much as emotional. He felt a stir that was slowly becoming a sense of disquiet. Apprehension.

He shrugged off the feeling and walked onward to the rendezvous spot. He needed to hand over the security codes to Intelligence while they were still useful. Phantom pains be damned.

* * *

"Do you understand what I am telling you?"

The Foundry official was a tall, lanky specimen with optics that seemed to have been designed too small-or his olfactory sensor too large-to properly balance out his facial features. Ratchet had decided instantly that he did not much care for this mech. He held himself too proudly to be anywhere near levelheaded, mistaking his advantage of height for authority. He knew of this official, but had never met face to face. Their respective duties were not so that they might run into one another by mere happenstance. And in any case, Ratchet felt sure that it was a blessing that it was so.

The current subject of discussion was causing the room to feel far too stifling. While technically Ratchet out ranked him the subject at hand, it was not within Ratchet's legal jurisdiction to dictate and ultimately, it was this mech who decided what was to become of Sam. And just as Ratchet held a low opinion of the mech, he too seemed to have an equally low opinion of Ratchet.

It made for a tense conversation.

"I understand, Highbrow," Ratchet said tersely.

"It is not my wish to see any mech persecuted for his efforts in aiding one of our new generation, but there are rules to observe and there have been some unsavory rumors regarding your comrade's intentions."

"I assure you, Bumblebee's intentions in regards to D-17 are completely within respectable bounds."

The tall mech clasped his hands behind his back and gave a stiff nod. "I hope so. An overseer shall come to collect the Sparkling within the cycle. If his glitch cannot be corrected during that time, he shall be scheduled for a data purge."

It was the worse feeling Ratchet knew. Seeing a situation, knowing he was needed, and being unable to do much of anything. Helplessness. It was a bitter flavor he did not much care for. Without any means of refusal, Ratchet could only nod his head and ended the conversation.

When the Foundry Official finally felt, Bumblebee burst out from a backroom from where he overheard the conversation in its entirety. If the flashing of his optics were any indicator, he was not pleased. Bumblebee lost no time in voicing his displeasure either. "You can't let them take him back!"

Ratchet sighed and braced himself against the console, feeling the weight of his years bearing down upon his poor struts. Stress always made him feel so old…

"There's nothing we can do Bumblebee," Ratchet replied. "He's Foundry property."

Bumblebee leaned into Ratchet's space and growled, "He's not a piece of furniture!"

Ratchet remained cool. "According to our laws he is. Until he is adopted."

"Then I'll adopt him!"

Ratchet allowed a small smile to creep onto his features. He rose back to his full height and regarded his old friend. While Bumblebee was not a youngling anymore, he was still green around the servos. Even the grind of their long war could not loosen his energy or determination or that blind restlessness.

"Your loyalty is admirable," Ratchet replied. "But we do not have the time. The waiting list for a sparkling is not only notoriously long, but to be approved for it…well, it makes the Academy entrance exams look like a leisurely stroll."

Bumblebee did not look deterred. "There must be something we can do."

"We can think about this logically," Ratchet answered, placing a reassuring hand on Bumblebee's shoulder as he walked past him. "We may not have direct say with the Foundry, but we do possess powerful connections."

It was then that Bumblebee's face lit up with realization. "Optimus."

* * *

The private transport slowed to a halt and Highbrow waited until the door opened for him before exiting onto the street. His assistant followed closely behind. Together they entered the main lobby and took a lift to the private offices. Once there, Highbrow took his chair and sat heavily into it. With a sigh, he shook his head while his assistant stood by silently.

"I do not care for it," Highbrow murmured. "It's rings of suspicion."

The assistant quirked his head ever so slightly. "Sir?"

"That medic, he use to work under the Prime, yes? After the exodus?"

Studying the data streaming across the data pad in his hands, the assistant nodded. "Yes sir. He was a close confidant of the Prime during that time period."

"Who else was on his team?"

"Ratchet-Chief Medical officer, Ironhide-weapons specialist and tactician, Jazz-special ops…"

"What of a mech named Bumblebee?"

"Bumblebee-scout. Filled in as active lieutenant during his deployment with Prime's unit following Jazz's deactivation on the planet Earth."

"What can you tell me of him?"

"He's accredited with the badge of valor for his efforts on Tyger Pax. And it says here that he was once a guard of the Allspark chamber."

The elder considered this for a long moment, staring off and allowing his own processor to savor the data. "A war hero and apparently a most committed individual."

The assistant only appeared confused. "Sir?"

"A seasoned soldier of the wars. Retired and leading an apparently stable life. Sounds as though he is a perfect candidate for adoption, does he not?"

"Yes sir."

"Well I find his behavior suspicious. He has not thus far admitted any forms requesting adoption approval?"

"No, sir. He has not."

"The why such an interest in a glitched Sparkling? And what of the medic? What does he have to do with this?"

Suddenly the assistant face lit up with a startling idea. "A conspiracy?"

"To forgo the approval process and snatch up an innocent spark for themselves. There may be something in their war career that might hinder their eligibility. The Medic, I feel he may be the middle man. Bumblebee may be manipulating old ties for personally gain. I want an overseer to collect the sparkling as soon as possible."

"Yes sir." Said the assistant with a nod and began to type away at his data pad.

Highbrow continued, "And when he is collected, have him sent to medical for a data purge. We have waited far too long to deal with this glitch. It is our responsibility to oversee the well being of these new sparks. I will not have him fall to the hands of a pair of lowly thugs!"

* * *

Author's notes: I know a lot of you were hoping for a sequel and I hope this does not disappoint. I realize it's short, but hey-it's just a prologue. More to come! =D


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I admit I was a little intimidated about the last half of this chapter and ended up rewriting it several times. Be forewarned, you'll probably hate my guts.

**Chapter One: Naught Without Adversity **

Lights danced and flickered all around her as she made her way across the walkway connecting the business sector to the tram. From there she would take the Southport stop to the docking ports where cargo vessels ferried crew and cargo from one end of the nebula to the other. The streets were alive and buzzing and harmonic. It was shaping up to be a pleasant evening, after all.

Earlier that cycle, her sector manager had dismissed her from her active duties and had sent her to work in the offices. Clerical work. It didn't suit her. But there was not much Glyph would do about it. She would have to show her manager not only could she handle being downgraded, but she could excel in it. She would show him just who exactly 'wasn't up to the responsibility'.

But she would not let any of that get her down. She had much more things to look forward to near the docks. The cargo ship Glaspia was docking in just a few short breems and onboard would be her best friend, Crosscut. A pure gentleman of an Automation, they had caught each other's spark the moment they met at a fuel house. He was her other half and (hopefully) soon to be Bonded.

She would ask him tonight if he would reciprocate the feeling and form a permanent, tangible connection to their sparks.

She just hoped he would say yes.

The tram slowed in front of her and she boarded the transport.

* * *

"Why are you sad?"

Bumblebee had not been entirely aware of his surroundings, too lost in his own meandering thoughts to pay much attention. Sam had been deep in recharge just moments ago and the fact that he had not noticed his awakening was slightly alarming. He had been tuned in and alert to all of Sam's movements as he slept. When had his mind become so full of thought that he forgot to watch his own bonded? Sam was still young by any measurement. He did not understand the signals he received through their bond. It would be a while before he would be able to interpret the signals with any sense of accuracy. That Sam had been able to not only hone in on Bumblebee's energy fluctuations, but also recognize it as an emotion and give it a name was an accomplishment. The joy of Sam's progress and recovery was overshadowed by the looming threat of separation.

Bumblebee masked his feelings and just ran his hand over Sam's head, indulging in the touch and the comforting feeling of being able to see and feel his charge after so long. The notion that it might all be taken away once more was almost unbearable. "I'm not sad," he assured the young mech. "Tired maybe. But not sad."

Sam didn't seem to be buying it and scooted closer, placing his small hands on Bumblebee's thigh. "You look sad…"

What a strange thing for a small sparkling to be worried about anyone when he had such a difficult path ahead to navigate. His innocence was both a gift and a curse. Too innocent to understand what was happening and too young to do anything about it. Would he be able to grasp the reason why he was going to be taken away? Why no one would listen? Would he be blamed for not protecting his charge? And if he did go back, be adopted, and grow up, would his missing memories surface? How would that affect him? Would anyone know what to do?

What would happen to Sam if Bumblebee was not there to protect him?

With a sigh, Bumblebee leaned back onto the berth and Sam scrambled up the yellow chassis and laid himself over the Mech's chest. After a tense moment of silence, Bumblebee asked, "Do you remember much of Earth, Sam?"

The sparkling absently scratched at Bumblebee's armor where the paint was flaking and chipped. "A little. Not really."

"When you do remember and you feel scared," Bumblebee told him. "Come tell me and I'll help you, OK?"

"Is that why you're sad? Because you remember Earth?"

Bumblebee smiled. "Yes. It makes me sad to remember Earth."

"How come?"

"Lots of happy memories. And many more sad ones."

Sam did not reply. Instead, he scooted up and pressed his head into the underside of Bumblebee's neck.

"Then maybe you can just remember the happy ones."

He smiled and placed his hand over Sam. "You're right, Sam. I should just remember the happy ones."

All in all, he would have to trust Ratchet's judgment and allow things to progress before making their move. The next few cycles were going to be nerve wracking.

* * *

The moment Servo walked into the room, Sam had a funny feeling. He knew instinctively that there was something wrong. Upon his entry, no one spoke to him or even make note of his appearance. Ratchet did not greet the overseer or ask why he was there as would be expected. Bumblebee said nothing either the sands of Sam's mind began to shift towards worry. Cradled in Bumblebee's arms, he pressed into his guardian's hold, but not a moment after, Sam was placed upon the floor. Bumblebee took two dividing steps back.

There was something going on and it made Sam more anxious by the second.

Why was Servo there? Now that he had found Bumblebee, he did not need Servo anymore. So then why had he come? At first Sam though he might be coming to say goodbye, but the notion was quickly dashed and replaced by dread when the Foundry Mech walked over to him with his hands held out saying, "Come D-17, it's time to go home."

"NO!" Sam yelled. He ran to Bumblebee and latched on to the larger Mech's shins. Bumblebee made no move to consol him or provide any explanation. Without a word, Servo took a firm hold on Sam and yanked him away.

Vorns of experience made him apt at handling Sparklings who would not stay still. The overseer held Sam firmly, giving him not an inch and all the small creature could do was yell and scream.

Why?

WHY?

He his optics were an open book, reading the sadness, confusion, hurt, and fear he was feeling for all to see. No one was saying anything. It was too quiet. The moment had come too fast and was progressing too rapidly. He didn't understand what was happening.

He was scared.

"Bumblebee!" Sam cried, reaching out as Servo turned and left.

Bumblebee stood silently and did not move.

* * *

"I'm sorry it turned out this way," Servo said, genuine regret in his tone. He was baffled by the whole situation and the fact that Foundry Officials, high ranked individuals, were placing wagers in the matter only made his concern for D-17's wellbeing increase. Something was going on, something potentially bad. But his function was not to question his superiors.

But it was his duty to care for and see to the positive development of all Sparklings under his care. And whether or not intended, he had a large emotion sum invested in D-17. Whatever happened to him from here on out, he would see as his own victory or failure.

He was not going to fail any spark. They were too dear, too precious. None of them were expendable. Glitch or none.

D-17 squirmed in his lap as the tram took off. Their car was empty despite the feeling of being cramped. Perhaps it was just Servo's own feelings, but he could not help but feel as though he were in a very delicate place.

"I don't want to go back!"

"You're not well, you need help. That medic could not help you like he promised, so we're going to try somewhere else."

The sparkling wailed and began to kick. "No! Ratchet's a good doctor! He found Bumblebee for me! He helped fix our node!"

A bolt of something half way between dread and anger cracked across Servo's processor synapses. With more force then necessary, he turned the sparkling around to face him and pulled him up close to his face. "He did what?"

D-17 was startled by the sudden flip in personality and was caught completely off guard.

"What did that doctor do? What do you mean he fixed your node? What node?" The overseer was fervent, even angry. "What did he do, D-17?"

"My…bond node," D-17 whimpered in confusion. "With Bumblebee…"

Servo's optics turned pale and his expression soured into a most belligerent expression. However, before he could give voice to his rage the world collapsed all around them.

* * *

"What do you mean she isn't here?" Crosscut demanded of the secretary femme. The automation sitting before him was the target of his anger. She sat there as though HE owed her something in return for disrupting her time wasting activities and her useless energy wasting existence.

Glyph had sent him a message the she would wait for him as they had planned, but when he arrived at their pre-assigned rendezvous, she was no where to be seen. And the local staff were no help at all.

Fury born from a deep sense of urgency filled Crosscut as he left the information desk to make one last lap around the building in search of his dear friend. He did not find her.

Not long after that the fury melted into concern which soon became fear.

His wanderings became mindless as he wracked his memory for any sign, any clue. He searched fueling stations, recreational events and areas, even the coroner's office.

No Glyph.

While he sat at an empty table in an unassuming fuel diner, he wallowed in his confusion, worry, and hurt. Could it be possible that she was not there because she never came?

Had he done something to offender her? To anger her?

Crosscut had no way of knowing, but the uncertainty was eating away at him like acid.

It was then that the good natured fuel attendant approached his booth with a glowing cube of Energon. She placed it before him with a smile and asked, "so, you hear about the derailment?"

"What?"

"They're saying the tram derailed a few clicks north of Southport and the whole thing's in flames."

* * *

Smoke filled his vision and all he could think to do was yell for Bumblebee. After the world turned over onto itself and he gathered his wit's enough to understand somewhat of his situation, his primary programming told him to call for help, to cry, to yell. He needed to let someone know where he was. So he did so.

"Bumblebee!" He yelled and wiggled, trying to ease the tremendous pressure on his back that kept him pinned to the flooring. "Bumblebee!"

There was a sudden clang of metal and the sound of scuffling feet and before Sam could do much of anything, the pressure on his back lifted and a voice, clogged with ash, called out to him.

"Move D-17," said the voice. "I got you."

Sam pulled himself from beneath the sheet of metal and found himself in the inferno. Debris was built up all around and it took him a second to recognize the piles of scrap as the destroyed remnants of the tram car. The walls had split open, seats and glass lay strewn upon the ground like so many scraps of discarded junk. The car's ceiling was cracked open and between the billowing clouds of smoke and ash, he could make out stars and the bulkheads of towering buildings. He turned around to see Servo holding up a section of tram wall with one shaking hand. The other was clutched to his side where Energon oozed from a long gash in his side. A shard of metal was lodged in his shoulder and one of his optics had been shattered.

Something inside Sam's head began to wail like some sort of internal klaxon and a disturbing sense of danger fell over him. For a moment, he forgot all about Bumblebee and he scampered over to Servo.

"Hurt," Sam mumbled, little hands shaking. "You need Ratchet…"

"Don't worry," Servo mumbled through gritted teeth. Sam was too young to recognize just how much pain Servo was in, but he knew instinctively that something was wrong. "We need to get out of here before…"

His sentence was lost as an echoing scream filled the air. It came from neither Sam nor Servo. Both of them stood frozen, listening for another scream, but none came. Abruptly, Servo rose to his feet and hobbled through the debris with Sam close at his heels. They stumbled out of the carnage of the tram wreck and into the street. The heat from the raging inferno was close to unbearable and the fire leapt at their heels. The coolness of the street air made their metal skin tingle.

Confused and unsure, Sam clung to Servo's leg as they looked around for the source of the scream.

Further up the tram where the worst of the wreckage was engulfed entirely in flames, there were several figures. The largest was a bulking behemoth of an automation with large square shoulders and powerful arms. Beside him was a lithe figure with slipstream armor. The larger of the two hoisted something over his shoulder and turned towards the smaller one. It was then that Servo realized the thing over his shoulder was the comatose form of a femme.

"Hey!" Servo called out. "Is everyone OK? Anyone hurt?"

The daintier figure turned abruptly towards them and piercing cobalt blue optics cut through the glaring amber flames. A seeping dread past over Sam as his green optics met blue. Something deep down in his chest ached and he felt nauseous and dizzy.

Sam reached up and clutched Servo's hand. "We have to go," he said. Those optics scared him. Something was wrong. Very wrong. They had to leave. Now.

The smaller figure pointed towards him. The larger Mech spun to face them.

"We got to go!" Sam wailed, yanking on the overseer's hand.

"D-17, stop can't-"

His words were cut short when a wall slammed into him and pushed him backwards into a partition wall of a building. The metal buckled and creaked as Servo's already damaged body was violently smashed into it. Sam had been clutching so tightly to Servo's hands that he too was sent flying. His small body rolled to a stop several feet away. Dizzy and confused and very frightened, Sam managed to regain his wits in a matter of seconds. He looked up to see the larger Mech pinning Servo to the wall. Over his shoulder was the offline body of a femme. Her eyes were dark and Sam cried.

"R-run…" Servo sputtered, flecks of Energon flying from his lips as he spoke. Thin streams of Energon rolled down the sides of his mouth, his one good optics wide and alert.

Sam did not move. He couldn't.

"You are the one," said a voice, wispy and almost transparent like that of a ghost.

Sam turned to see the thinner Mech standing behind him. His figure was frail and thin, his armor almost nonexistent. But his optics were an odd shade of cobalt blue, piercing and intense. So much so that it made Sam squirm. They were the optics of a killer, a predator.

Murderer.

"We were not expecting you for some time yet," the Mech said, sliding down to kneel beside Sam who just sat there staring dumbly, too frightened to move. "This changes things a bit."

Sam stared, horrified and transfixed, as the Mech reached out with one clawed hand.

"Don't touch him!"

Servo's voice was cut off as he was slammed once more into the wall.

"Quiet!" barked the larger Mech, snarling viciously. "This doesn't concern you, Autobot filth."

The sound of the emergency response team rose over the din. The thin Mech pulled back his hand and stood. "We have our orders. We depart now."

The larger Mech looked between Sam and his smaller companion. "Now? But he's right here! Shouldn't we…"

The smaller Mech rounded on the larger, his optics flaring like wild fire. "We depart."

Sam, it seemed, was not the only one who felt powerless under the Mech's intense optics. The larger Mech slumped and nodded. "Understood."

Stepping to the side, the thin Mech turned his gaze to Servo, seeming to weigh him.

"Leave only the child," he said coolly. "We need no witnesses."

"Gladly," growled the behemoth. In one fluid motion, he stepped back and released Servo. As the overseer began to fall to the floor, the larger Mech reared back his fist and plunged it into Servo's middle, skewering him clean through.

The gurgled death cry of the one Mech Sam had known since awaking pierced his audios like swords, driving down into his spark and making him scream. Energon sprayed across the wall and pavement. Sam felt droplets of the fluid fleck his cheeks and chest. Wide eyed with horror, Sam watch the larger Mech drop Servo's twitching body to the ground, allowing him to lay in a pool of his own bodily fluids until he moved no more, his one good optics slowly dimming until there was nothing there.

There was not enough sound to validate Servo's death. It was too quite. There wasn't enough sound, not enough anger to mark his death. Silence meant no one cared. But Sam did. He jus could not find his voice.

Sam did not move or speak. The murderers did not speak. In mere seconds they were gone, disappeared into the darkness with their lone prisoner, the femme.

Sam sat on the ground, frozen, watching the pool of blood expand over the ground.

* * *

Author's notes: This story is going to be a bit darker then I had originally intended so the rating may go up. I apologize if any of you guys had a particularly fondness for Servo, but in every life a little rain must fall.


End file.
